


It's Christmas (So Tell Me True)

by Welsh_Woman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, angst like whoa, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsh_Woman/pseuds/Welsh_Woman
Summary: It's just another day in Beacon Hills.
Except it's Christmas.
And Derek is talking about leaving for good.
...Tis the season?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miserylovestheinternet](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=miserylovestheinternet).



“Oh, come on, this is _not_ fair!”

The harpy circling overhead does not seem to care about the difference of fair or not fair and uses Stiles’ cry to pinpoint his location, plummeting at him in a way that has him nearly falling down a ravine when he dives for cover.

“I mean, I get that Beacon Hills is a miasma of energies and basically Supernatural catnip, but it’s _Christmas_! Can’t you lot take even _one day_ off?!?”

The harpy still seems to be disinclined to listen to Stiles’ impassioned plea, other than using it to find out where he is, and nearly takes a chunk out of his shoulder if not for the timely arrival of one Derek Hale.

As it is, _Derek_ is the one that ends up with a decent piece of his flesh missing, even though he uses that moment to grab ahold of the harpy and bring it close enough to rip its throat out.

With his _teeth_.

Stiles would be laughing at that in a minute, as soon as he can tear his eyes away from the slowly healing wound in Derek’s shoulder and make his brain stop playing the last time that Derek was mortally wounded on repeat.

He hears his name as if from a distance, his own breathing loud in his ears, before Derek’s face comes into his line of sight and he nearly headbutts Stiles with how close he suddenly is.

“Are you alright? Your heartbeat-”

“I’m fine.” Stiles mutters, embarrassed by how close he came to a panic attack over a little bit of torn flesh, flesh that is already closed and only slightly pink to show that there even was damage in the first place. “I just…”

Derek gets this look on his face like he suddenly _gets it_ , before taking Stiles’ hand and placing it on his shoulder, his grip strong and steady even as he states, “I’m okay, Stiles, it’s already healing.”

Stiles can’t help but flex his fingers against the skin under his palm, a lump in his throat that makes it hard to speak. “I know, I can see that and I’m aware that I’m overreacting, it’s just…”

It’s just that ever since La Iglesias, ever since Derek came back from his little wolfly road trip (sans Braeden), Stiles has been living in this state of near constant panic that something else would happen and Derek really would-

Cutting off that train of thought at the head, Stiles pulls away from Derek and hitches a grin onto his lips. “You look like an old wolfman movie extra gone wrong, man. Let’s get rid of the harpy and get you cleaned up.”

Derek returns his grin with a frown, but doesn’t push for anything else as they drag the harpy’s corpse to the meeting spot; it’s another thing that has changed ever since Derek has come back to Beacon Hills, the fact that he just lets things go and doesn’t push.

Stiles doesn’t like it, hates that it throws the whole balance of their dynamic off, and he always fights to keep from saying or doing something meaner just to see if he can crack Derek’s Zen thing he’s got going on.

It’s totally quiet, or as quiet as it can be when you’re dragging a six-foot corpse through the woods, when Derek breaks the silence by stating, “I’m thinking about going back to New York.”

Stiles very nearly drops his part of the corpse on his foot.

“ _What_?!?”

Derek’s frown is back, growing so much he nearly has a unibrow, and he keeps his eyes on the forest in front of them as he continues to act as if he didn’t just yank the rug from under Stiles’ feet.

“I’m thinking about going back to New York, maybe even rent the apartment Laura and I… I’ve been thinking that it might be a good idea to finally put Beacon Hills behind me, once and for all.”

It amazes Stiles how his body can function without any say from him; his feet keep walking, his arms keep dragging, and even his mouth keeps moving, because he can hear himself say, “What about Scott? And the Pack?” even though it feels like he’s moving through a fog.

His question earns him a snort from Derek, as close as a derisive sound as he has ever made since returning, before he says, “Scott hasn’t needed me even when he was first Bit, I really doubt he needs me now. He has the Pack and the Pack has him… there’s nothing for me in Beacon, anymore.”

Stiles does stop then, fully and completely, drops the corpse and everything. He tries to figure out how to word what he needs to say, what he needs to tell Derek to make him see that’s the biggest pile of bullshit he has ever heard, but all that comes out is a broken, “What about me? What about _us_?”

Derek looks at him, just stares for the longest time, before gruffly stating, “There was no us, Stiles.” and makes to drag the corpse himself, uncaring if Stiles follows him or not.

“Bullshit.”

This time, it’s Derek that freezes in his tracks and Stiles will feel validated by that as soon as the anger that’s boiling his blood dies out, and to do that, Stiles needs to yell some more.

“That is utter _bullshit_ and you know it, Derek Hale. Maybe we weren’t ‘official’ or whatever that crap is, but you and I both know there was _something_ there! Something that kept pulling us together, that made us want to help the other, and that made me always ask where you were or what happened to you! Damn it, Derek! I was more than tempted to just stay with you when those Berserkers attacked, even though I had no idea what was happening to Scott, because I was _terrified_ that was the last time I would see you alive!” 

Derek is looking at him like he’s not sure what’s happening and Stiles’ breath is rasping in his chest again, but damn it all, it’s Christmas and Stiles is so done with all the half hopes that turn into painful wishes. He’s done denying this and is going to make Derek see that even if there was no them for him, it sure as hell was for Stiles!

“So, don’t give me that ‘there was no us’ bullshit, Derek Hale. And don’t you dare say that there’s nothing in Beacon for you, because _I’m_ fucking here and if you really are going to leave for good, you might as well pack another suitcase, because I’m coming with you!”

That gets him Derek dropping the harpy as well, coming toward him with a look in his eyes like he can’t be sure if the gift set in front of him is really his to keep, and it makes Stiles reach for him before he’s even halfway across the clearing.

“Did you mean that?” Derek is trembling in his arms, his eyes so wide that Stiles is worried they’re going to fall right out of his face, “Stiles, did you really mean that?”

Taking one of the werewolf’s hands, Stiles presses it against his chest and says slowly and carefully, enunciating every word so that there is no mistake. “I meant every fucking syllable, Derek Hale, and do you want to know why?”

Derek is still looking at him like he can’t believe this is happening and Stiles throws the last bit of caution he has to the wind and goes for broke like he does with everything else.

“It’s because I love you.”

A wounded noise leaves Derek’s lips and then they’re suddenly on Stiles’ and it’s a little gross, because he’s still covered in harpy viscera, but Stiles kisses back for all he’s worth.

It’s not the first place he ever thought he’d tell Derek he loves him, but it still works because they’re both there and it’s _real_.

Stiles taps all ten fingers against Derek’s neck to make sure.

It’s real.


End file.
